The Closet

After what feels like a very long time, now that I am working again, I am able to say to the kids, 'Yes, I think we can afford that. I'll order it.' Simple words but let me tell you, they fall from my mouth with a lot of meaning, gratitude and relief; which has not escaped the attention of my children. They'd 'almost' got to the point of not asking me for anything because they knew what my answer would be. Therefore, it was possible for me to order a  brand spanking new, four-door closet for my teenager to house her copious amounts of tops, skirts, dresses, coats, dance gear, etc.

With much anticipated excitement, the closet arrived at 8am Saturday morning. Not so awesome was that it was flat packed. We all know that if there is any single 'DIY' project that is inclined to 'tip one over the edge', it is definitely having to build furniture that usually arrives with a few screws missing or instructions that are either in a foreign language or worse still, written by an engineer. So, to ask the proverbial question: 'How many women does it take to build a flat-pack closet?' The answer: Just the one, who then calls in her Dad and two brothers who are happy to oblige; providing they are cooked a big breakfast and offered unlimited mugs of coffee. This post was actually going to be titled, Three Men Coming Out to Erect Closet, but I feared that my family would not be best pleased to be splashed across social media in a sentence including the words: men, coming out, erect and closet!

Eventually, after several pots of coffee, a cooked breakfast and then sandwiches and donuts for lunch, the wardrobe was erected; having had extra pieces of wood screwed on for reinforcement. My 12-year old who was awaiting a lift into town was told that it would just take them a final half-hour to secure the hinges, handles and doors. He wasn't best pleased when the half-hour turned into an extra hour and twenty minutes. As women, we are fully aware that a man's, 'I'll be finished this job and home in half an hour' is equivalent to our 'I'll be dressed and ready in half an hour.'

 I ended up giving my son his lift to town. Then I came home to find my two younger ones, having found the Styrofoam packaging in the flat pack boxes,  had managed to 'snow storm' the playroom and were clearly having a whale of a time. Once that was cleaned up, I decided I could just about squeeze in mowing the lawn before dinner; only to accidentally run over a pine cone five minutes later which was hidden in the jungle, putting the mower out of action. At that point, I called it a day and decided that all I was fit for was ordering a Chinese take away, sipping a glass of Pinot Grigio and watching The Voice.  Alas, all's well that ends well and my teenager now has enough closet space to indulge her OCD tendencies and her belongings are colour coordinated, categorised, organised and hung to within an inch of their lives. Woe betide anyone who enters her room and dares to move anything out of place. She will KNOW!

Huge thanks to Dad and my two brothers for having completed the task with skill and good humour. Dad's only concern was what I would write about him in my blog this week.  So Dad, you are coming up to your 78th birthday but you're still awesome and I honestly believe that you can fix anything!